


No Need to Say Goodbye

by riots



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Competency, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Himchan is a fixer and very very good at what he does, so when an old friend at the White House gives him a call, he doesn't hesitate to step in to lend a hand. He's sure it'll be a breeze - as long as he doesn't run into the President. How hard can it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Need to Say Goodbye

The heels of Himchan's Italian leather shoes sound loud against the polished floor, and that's just the way he likes it. It's been a long time since he walked these halls, and it's time for him to announce his presence. Luckily, Youngjae is young, he's fit, and he has always been able to keep up with Himchan's brisk pace. “You look good, by the way,” Himchan says, gesturing at Youngjae with a careless hand. It's not an empty compliment, he means it. The role of press secretary fits him well, and so do those slacks. Damn.

“You too,” Youngjae says. “The private sector treating you alright?”

“Of course,” Himchan replies, throwing Youngjae a sharp look, because it has. He hadn't known what to expect when he'd started his firm, but he's lucky, and he's determined. Eight months in Korea hadn't rid him of all the connections he'd accumulated while working on the presidential campaign, and a year on, he's well established. It helps, of course, that he is very, very good at his job. You can't argue with a flawless track record.

They pause at the door and Youngjae flashes his badge to security while Himchan straightens his cuffs. “Never doubted it,” Youngjae says dryly. The man at the door nods them through with a familiar smile to Himchan and he wiggles his fingers in thanks as they proceed.

He remembers this kind of hustle and bustle. Apparently, the President has a speech in a few hours, some kind of statement to make, and the staff are in a flurry of preparations. Near the window, he can see Jieun tugging on the President's tie, holding up another. She's right, he nods slightly. The grey is less distracting, more professional. Himchan fights back the fond warmth that pools in his chest at the sight of him. All these years, and President Yongguk Bang still can't pick out the right tie.

But that's not what Himchan's here for. The instant the President's eyes slide towards him, his eyes snap away. Business, Kim. Youngjae leads him through the room to where Daehyun stands, speaking to an intern. He's a good-looking man, he's always filled out his suits well, but his shoulders look even broader in this particular jacket. He watches the way that Daehyun fidgets with a pen, turning his patented sunshine-bright smile down at the girl at his side. “Has he been working out?” Himchan asks.

Youngjae misses a step, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “ _Really_?” he asks as they reach Daehyun. He looks appalled, which is enough to tell Himchan that he's right, and Youngjae is jealous. Delightful.

“Thank you, Youngjae,” Himchan says, and he gently pats Youngjae's face. He's missed the way that colour rushes to Youngjae's cheeks when he takes the bait, he really has. It's a little bit shameless, doing this when Youngjae has no room to retaliate, but Himchan has never really had qualms about fighting a little dirty. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Youngjae clicks his tongue and throws a look over Himchan's shoulder at Daehyun. Himchan doesn't need to look up to know that Daehyun's shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. It's funny how things don't change, even years on.

Youngjae stalks off, with a slightly too-curt word to the intern to follow him. “Thank you for coming,” Daehyun says. He hasn’t been sleeping well, Himchan notes, dark circles hidden poorly behind a layer of makeup. His evaluation of Daehyun is cut short, however, when Daehyun leans in close to his face, squinting. “Glasses?” he asks, tipping his head. “What happened to your contacts?”

“They make me look educated and reliable,” Himchan frowns, reaching up to touch the frames on his face. “So tell me, what disaster has befallen you that requires me to come all the way here to deal with it.” He smooths a hand down the front of his jacket. “I am a very busy man, Daehyun Jung.”

Daehyun eyes the people in the room, and then he gestures towards the hall. “A bit of privacy, maybe?” he suggests, and Himchan allows him to lead the way.

They end up in a small room a few doors down, one that is happily unoccupied. “Spill,” Himchan commands, leaning back against the table in the centre of the room. “I don't have all day.” He doesn't, really, but it might have more to do with how uneasy he feels, being back in these halls. It's just familiar enough, but he feels like he's been knocked out of place. He doesn't like it much.

“So, it turns out I'm a dad?” Daehyun says.

Himchan blinks at him, brow creasing. That's not a lot of fanfare for what should be, presumably, a happy announcement. “Well then. Congratulations,” Himchan says. He frowns. “I didn't even know you were married.” He spares a second to be miffed. He supposes he shouldn't be, it's not like he'd made a great deal of effort to patch things up once he'd returned to DC, but he still thought he'd at least merit a quick heads-up email when his friend of four years tied the knot.

“I'm _not_ ,” Daehyun snaps. “I haven't even _proposed_ yet.” Himchan resists the urge to roll his eyes. That's it? This is what made Youngjae call him at seven in the morning, sounding half-panicked? Maybe he never should have left, if Yongguk's entire cabinet was going to turn out to be so excitable.

Daehyun rubs at his face and Himchan's hand shoots out, hooking fingers in Daehyun's cuff before he manages to ruin his makeup. “This isn't the fifties,” Himchan reminds him, amused. “You're not going to be crucified for knocking up your girlfriend. You're acting like this is a world-ender.”

Daehyun tugs his hands free. “He's seventeen,” he says helplessly. “And he wants to get to know me. If I don't acknowledge him, he says he'll go to the press and he'll make me.”

“Ah,” Himchan says, eyes widening for a second. Daehyun is thirty six. It's not unheard of, really, but the shell-shocked look on Daehyun's face says that this was a complete surprise to him. He hadn't even known that this kid had been conceived, and now he's old enough to hunt him down and make threats. “Alright. That complicates things.”

“A little,” Daehyun says dryly. He's staring at his hands. “I just – I don't know what to do.” His phone is buzzing in his pocket, Himchan can hear it, but Daehyun doesn't reach for it. He is the Chief of Staff, but Himchan supposes that sometimes, even he can steal five minutes. He really looks like he could use it, right now. “ _Seventeen_ ,” Daehyun says again, laughing in disbelief. “I haven't even _seen_ him yet. He sent a letter to my office.” He manages to sound disappointed and relieved, all at once.

If Himchan hadn't already made up his mind to help long before he'd even come to the White House, that would have done it. He settles his palm against the flat of Daehyun's shoulder. “We'll figure this out,” he says firmly, and taps his thumb against Daehyun's shoulder until he meets his eye. “We will, we'll figure it out. You did the right thing, coming to me. I am the very best, after all.”

That gets a snort out of Daehyun, some of the tension fading from the creases around his eyes. “You are,” he says, although his tone makes that fact sound doubtful. For his benefit, Himchan lets his jaw drop, clapping a hand to his chest in mock-affront. “It's good to see you,” Daehyun adds. Himchan refuses to acknowledge the sincerity of it. “It's been a while, you know?”

“It has,” Himchan agrees. “I guess we've all been busy.” It's not a lie, definitely, but it is a bit of a misdirection. It's been a very long time since he spent any time here, and there are many reasons for that. Many reasons, and Himchan is very definitely not going to think about any of them.

Daehyun hums, but he eyes Himchan as he opens the door for them, leading them out. “Are you going to go say hello?” he asks.

They pause at the doorway, and Himchan looks in. Youngjae is speaking to the President now, and the two of them have their heads bent together. Yongguk's hair has grown a little bit longer, and Himchan approves. It's less severe this way, it makes him look friendlier. That will help him in the polls. “No,” Himchan says. “I don't think I will.”

Yongguk looks up and this time, Himchan meets his gaze. He doesn't know how to read the look in Yongguk's eyes, but when his lips quirk up in a tiny smile and he nods to him, Himchan nods back. It's the first time they've seen each other since he got back from Korea and something in Himchan's chest clenches, makes it hard to breathe.

He clears his throat. “Come see me,” he says, tearing his eyes away to hand one of his cards to Daehyun. “As soon as you can. I'm clearing my schedule, you are our top priority.”

“First thing,” Daehyun agrees, tucking the card away. “Thank you so much.”

Himchan scoffs. “Don't thank me until the job is done,” he says. In the room behind them, the noise increase says that it's almost time for Yongguk head out. Himchan should make his exit himself. If he's going to help Daehyun out, he's going to need to get to work immediately. “Look after yourself, alright?” he says. He taps Daehyun on the nose. “Get some sleep, and don't say a word to the press. You know the drill.”

“Alright,” Daehyun says, full lips pulling up into a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Himchan agrees. Daehyun slips back into the bustle of people, lets himself be drawn into a conversation about something terribly important, Himchan assumes, and Himchan spares himself one last look into the room.

Yongguk is watching him, eyes dark, and Himchan swallows, turning away. He squares his shoulders and heads out of the White House, already dialing Jongup's number. This is going to be a tough one, for so many reasons.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I thought you didn't work with the President anymore,” Junhong says, frowning down at the folder Himchan's given him. It's slim, so far, there's only so much Himchan can manage to dig up on a teenager during lunch on a smartphone. That being said, someone really should teach that kid a little bit about internet security, Jesus.

“I don't,” Himchan says firmly, but Jongup is watching him over the top of his laptop screen, eyes thoughtful. Himchan ignores this, instead choosing to breeze past him to where his coffee is cooling on the table's edge. “Daehyun is the Chief of Staff. And an old friend.”

Junhong rests his chin in one hand while he pokes at the papers in the folder. “So,” he says slowly, “What exactly are we doing for him? I see a kid...”

“A teenaged love-child does not reflect well on the young, untested Chief of Staff of the new President,” Himchan says. “Especially when he's got all of the leverage. There's no telling what he'll tell the press, if it comes to it.” He gestures at the grainy photo he'd pulled off the kid's facebook account. “God, look at that. He's clearly Daehyun's, he can't dress himself to save his life.”

Junhong drums his fingers against the glossy paper. “Is it even okay to pay off a seventeen year old?” he asks, scrunching up his nose. It's funny, the way he emphasizes the kid's age, like he's not barely out of law school himself, his youth still visible in the softness that lingers on his jaw. Just because he wears suits now doesn't mean he's not still young.

“We don't know if we have to pay him off,” Jongup says. He tilts his head, looking up at Himchan. “Time to go digging?”

“Yes, please,” Himchan says, squeezing Jongup's shoulder. “He's a teenager, he's on the internet, he's practically handing everything to us.” There's always a chance that the kid isn't Daehyun's, of course. Himchan doesn't like to assume the worst in everyone, but it never hurts to be very, very prepared. “And look into his mother. You know I don't work with maybes.”

Junhong huffs, flicking the photo across the table. “This isn't much of a challenge,” he says.

“So make it one,” Himchan says, smiling sweetly and sliding it back. “This is the job. He is the client.” He lifts the folder and thwacks Junhong across the head with it. “And I'm the boss.”

Jongup grins amiably as Junhong groans, letting his head loll over the back of the chair. “Boring,” he declares. He catches sight of Himchan's glare out of the corner of his eye and straightens abruptly. “But I guess that means it'll be fast?” He fakes a smile and gingerly tugs the folder out of Himchan's hands, to deprive him of his weapon, Himchan presumes.

“That's what I thought,” Himchan sniffs. Junhong may be a disrespectful kid, but he's also the best, and he wants him working on this case.

They'd first met when Junhong was still in school, an over-eager intern who'd worked at Sunhwa's firm. He'd worked longer hours even than her and wore ill-fitting suits, still unaccustomed to his height. Himchan had taken a liking to him, this overgrown kid who could tease the information he wanted right out of a reticent witness but lost his tongue when Sunhwa praised his hard work, staring at his feet and turning red. He's lost a lot of that shyness, and rightfully so, Himchan thinks. He's an invaluable asset, even if sometimes Himchan wishes they could return to the days where Junhong was shy and actually did as he was told.

“This is important to me,” Himchan says, tapping a finger against the tabletop. “So, I want your best.”

Junhong stands, and even though he's got more than a few inches on Himchan, he hunches his shoulders a little. He's never truly taken advantage of his size. “Okay, boss,” he says. “On it.”

“Thank you,” Himchan says, and he squeezes Junhong's elbow. “I want you to dig up every little thing on this kid, the classes he skips, his brand of toothpaste, everything. I need to know _exactly_ why he's coming to find Daehyun now.”

Junhong cracks off a quick, sloppy salute. “Got it.” He's out of the room in a second, phone in his hand.

“And you,” Himchan says, rounding on Jongup, “I want you on the mother. Every little thing, the nitty and the gritty. We need to be prepared.” He smooths his hand down his jacket again, and when he catches Jongup watching the gesture, his lips tighten. “Don't,” he holds out a finger, speaking quickly, before Jongup has a chance to interrupt. “It's fine.” Jongup blinks at him, a near smile on his lips, silent. “It's _fine_ ,” Himchan repeats, and Jongup shrugs.

“Alright.” he agrees after a second. He closes his laptop and stands. “I'm on it.” He gives Himchan one last smile before he slips out of the room, and for the first time since this morning, Himchan pulls out a chair and flops down heavily.

“It's fine,” he says one more time, like the repetition will somehow make it true.

 

 

 

 

 

  


“'Gonna'?” Himchan scoffs, looking up at Yongguk over his copy of tomorrow's speech. “'Gonna'. Are you kidding me? Are you some kind of country bumpkin? Please.”

“I'm tired,” Yongguk insists, all mock-offense, and his grin widens when Himchan rolls his eyes at him.

It's late, it's so late. Himchan's jacket has long since been abandoned, his tie too, and Yongguk's got the first two buttons on his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In about half an hour, Himchan will straighten and order Yongguk to bed, of course – tomorrow is Virginia and Yongguk needs to be at the top of his game, and that means a full night's sleep – but right now, there's still time to work on this.

Himchan rubs at his eyes and yawns. “Excuses, excuses,” he says. “When you're President, do you think they're going to let that slide? 'Can't answer that call from the UN, Mr. Chief of Staff. I'm just so tired.'” He lies his head down on the table dramatically, sighing like a lovesick teenager. He can't see Yongguk's face from here, but he can hear the way that he laughs, and that's reward enough in itself. He straightens again, and Yongguk is covering his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his smile. “Enunciate, Yongguk. You are the young, idealistic, _articulate_ candidate. Don't slip up.”

“Slave-driver,” Yongguk accuses, but his voice is soft and there's no heat to it. It's funny, but even now, even with his hair mussed and tired lines around his eyes, he still looks every inch the presidential candidate. His shirt is rumpled, but his broad shoulders fill it out well, his long fingers surprisingly delicate where they scratch through his hair. Himchan's only been working with him for a couple of months, and he'd _never_ admit it, but Yongguk’s got him drinking the koolaid. Himchan has never been so certain who he's voting for.

It helps, of course, that it's not just an image. Yongguk is exactly as idealistic as he seems to be. Himchan got into this game because he's _good_ at it. He's always had a good sense for appearance, how to spin things, something that served him well through his work in public service and then again once he'd come on the campaign. But Yongguk – Yongguk with his honest, gummy smile and his thoughtful eyes – he's here because he _believes_. He wants to make the world a better place. He wants to help people, he wants to serve his country, and Himchan should find that hopelessly naive, but somehow it's endearing.

After all, Himchan is here, long past his bedtime, because this is the job, it's what he's got to do to make sure his candidate is the one that ends up in the Oval Office. Yongguk is here because he wants the chair just as badly. Himchan doodles rabbits in the margins of his copy of the speech and watches Yongguk square his shoulders and start again. He's a good speaker, even if he stumbles a little, and they're working on the way he freezes up and gets too serious sometimes.

It's because he's so genuine. Himchan watches all of Yongguk's speeches because he has to, he has to monitor Yongguk's performance. It's the only way they can learn, tweak his delivery, his tone, his appearance. But what carries Yongguk's speeches, what gets that rousing round of applause, is the honesty in his voice, the sincerity. He leans over that podium and he may not smile enough, he may not crack enough jokes, but he _believes_.

Himchan believes him too.

“If I wasn't here,” Himchan says, “you'd be stuck up behind that podium, mumbling and stumbling your way through your allotted three minutes before wandering offstage, head bowed in shame.”

Yongguk grins at him, wide and easy. “Probably,” he agrees. The long weeks spent touring are wearing on him, and Himchan doesn't like the dark circles beneath his eyes. His smile can't hide those.

Himchan sighs, throwing his papers down with a flourish. “Enough,” he says. “We're done. I'm sick of listening to you talk.” He stands, reaching automatically to button up his shirt and straighten himself out, as best he can. He's only going down the hall to his own room, but they're in politics. You never know who you'll run into. “Get a good few hours. You need your sleep.”

“So do you,” Yongguk points out gently. He tidies the paperwork strewn across the table, and collects their water glasses, carefully lining them up in the bathroom.

It's casual, but Himchan can't help the way his mouth curves up at Yongguk's concern. Bang Yongguk is a good guy, so good that Himchan almost thinks it deserves a capital G. “Yes sir, Mr. President, sir.”

Yongguk shakes his head. “Not yet,” he reminds Himchan, but he looks pleased. He drums his long fingers against the table top. “But soon, I think. As long as I've got people like you on my team.” He meets Himchan's eyes when he says this, and Himchan's gut swoops like he's on an elevator that dropped a floor.

“That's the spirit,” Himchan says. He smooths his hair into something passable and grabs his briefcase.

“Good night, Himchan,” Yongguk says. Even now, when he's been awake for something like eighteen hours, he stands straight, shoulders broad, and his eyes are always soft. “Sleep well.”

“You too, sir,” Himchan says, just to see the way that it makes Yongguk smile. He supposes he'll have to get used to being more respectful once Yongguk is in office, but for now, it's just because he likes the pleased light it sets off in Yongguk’s eyes. “Good night,” he says, and he slips out the door to his own room.

It's going to be a tough one tomorrow, but Yongguk is going to pull it off. Himchan has faith in him.

 

 

 

 

 

  


Daehyun shows up as planned, bright and early. Himchan is, of course, prepared. His suit is crisp and the coffee he slides into Daehyun's hand is still hot. Daehyun looks a little less so. It's not tough for Himchan to spot the tired lines around his eyes or the uncomfortable slope to his shoulders. “Good morning,” Himchan says. Daehyun manages a weak smile in return. His eyes fall on Himchan's team behind him, wary. “Daehyun, meet Jongup Moon and Junhong Choi. They'll be helping me with your case.” Jongup nods a friendly greeting and Junhong sticks out a hand, arm stiff. Old habits die hard. “Boys, this is Daehyun Jung, the President's Chief of Staff and our new client.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Daehyun says, and he nods his thanks when Jongup pulls out a seat for him. He takes a few seconds to have a look around the room, and when his eyes widen, Himchan preens. Daehyun is impressed, and he should be, Himchan thinks. “Wow.” Daehyun whistles. “Not too bad, Kim.” He takes in the long glass table, the hardwood floors, the floor to ceiling windows. “You've been doing pretty well for yourself, haven't you?”

Himchan only acknowledges this with a slight incline of his head. “Of course I have,” he scoffs. “Isn't it reassuring?” Himchan has found that clients like a subtle display of wealth. It implies that Himchan is successful, that he's good at what he does if he can charge enough to work out of a place like this. And if his clients are relaxed, they are more likely to give him all the details he needs. It's useful, really. The fact that Himchan is vain and likes to work out of a nice office has very little to do with it.

That surprises the first real smile Himchan's seen from Daehyun in a long time. “So reassuring,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes.

Sarcastic Daehyun is good, Himchan thinks, and so he decides to let that sarcasm slide. Himchan is so selfless. Behind him, Junhong clears his throat meaningfully. Ah, yes, the business at hand. “So, Daehyun Jung. You've got the letter?” Daehyun pulls out a folded piece of paper and flicks it towards him. Himchan nods, reaching for it and tucking it into the open folder on the table in front of him. There are three files – one for Daehyun, one for his ex-girlfriend, and one for the boy – but he's only looking at one. “It seems you are a father.”

Daehyun sags in his seat, clutching his Starbucks cup like a lifeline. “You're sure?” he asks.

“It's most likely,” Himchan tells him. “The timeline checks out. His mother is the same Hyosung Jeon you dated in your freshman and sophomore years of college, and his birth date sets the time of conception a few weeks before your break-up.” Himchan remembers Daehyun mentioning her before, a very pretty older girl who had eventually broken up with him when her time at school was up. Daehyun closes his eyes and rubs at his temples. “Of course, we want to be sure. With your permission, we'd like to do a paternity test, but it'll take a few days for us to get the results.”

Daehyun takes a long sip of his coffee, eyes blank and fixed on the table. “She never said a thing,” he says. He looks so lost.

Himchan leans across the table to squeeze Daehyun's wrist for a second. “Have you had any contact with him since the letter?” he asks.

“No,” Daehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowed. He's looking at the picture in the open folder between Himchan's hands, taking in the kid's thick lips, his long straight nose. The resemblance is striking, Himchan has to admit. He's learned to trust his gut in this job, and his gut says that this isn't some elaborate fraud, this kid is Daehyun's.

Himchan glances back at Jongup, who nods. They've done their initial research, but the next step is clearly to approach this kid. He looks down at the folder. Daniel Jeon. Seventeen. Born and raised in Daehyun's home state of California. Grades are good, but not outstanding. Dances recreationally. So what compelled him to come to Daehyun now? “Don't look for him just yet,” Himchan advises. “Let us find him, feel it out, see exactly what he wants.” He tips his head, looking at Daehyun. “What do _you_ want?”

Himchan watches Daehyun tap his fingertips against the lid of his coffee cup. “I just want this to go away,” Daehyun says. “I never asked for this.”

Himchan has known Daehyun since the beginning of Yongguk's campaign, almost four years ago, and he'd like to think that he knows him well. Or he did, anyway. Daehyun is one of the most capable people Himchan has always met. He's not nearly as skilled a talker as Youngjae, but he can be very persuasive when he wants to. Himchan's never seen him so at a loss for words. “Listen,” Himchan says, “Take that Debbie Downer frown off your face. This isn't impossible.”

Daehyun straightens, brows creasing in irritation. “I'm not being a Debbie Downer,” he says. Out of the corner of his eye, Himchan catches Junhong's shoulders jerking with suppressed laughter.

“You are,” Himchan says serenely, “But it's fine. I can fix this. That's my job, I'm a fixer. I – ”

“ – fix things,” Jongup and Junhong chorus, grinning. Himchan throws them a glare. The line may be well-worn, but it's got a nice ring to it. There's no need for their mockery. He’s going to fire them both. He needs new help.

Daehyun watches all of this with faint amusement. “I feel very confident in your abilities right now,” he says.

This is all so offensive. Himchan sniffs. “Trust me,” he says, a bit more seriously.

“Why do you think I called you first?” Daehyun asks.

“Exactly,” Himchan says. He closes the folder in front of him and holds it out to the side blindly, knowing that Jongup will take it. “Find him, please,” he says.

Jongup doesn't let him down. He takes the folder and squeezes his shoulder. “Gotcha, boss.” Bless Jongup, he always knows when to make an exit. He catches Junhong's elbow on the way out, nudging him towards the door. Jongup is half Junhong’s height, a bit of a mismatched pair, but Junhong still lets him steer them away and out the door.

“Why don't you just see the kid?” Himchan asks once they've gone, leaning back in his seat. “Can it hurt?”

Daehyun glances up at him, his eyes guarded. “I don't even know him,” he says. “I'm not dad material. It'll just be... easier.”

Himchan purses his lips but he says nothing. Daehyun is his friend, but he's also the client. And if the client says that's what he wants, then that's what he'll get. Even if Himchan is certain that he's keeping something from him, and he doesn't like it. “Alright,” he agrees finally.

“Speaking of,” Daehyun says, “Why don't you just see Yongguk?” It's a subject change geared specifically to set Himchan off balance, and while it doesn't quite work, it does set off that unsettling roll in Himchan's belly. “I know you two haven't talked since you got back.”

It's true. Himchan's mouth tightens. He's been back in Washington DC for over a year now, and he has yet to call Yongguk. There are a lot of reasons for that, a lot of very good reasons, not the least of which is fear. The way things had left off between them, when he was in South Korea... well. Daehyun's not the only one who prefers to keep things less complicated. “He's a busy man,” Himchan says, “Being the President of the United States and all.” For the first time that morning, he takes a sip of his coffee to cover up his discomfort. “I don't see what a phone call from me would do.”

“Right,” Daehyun says. He shakes his head and pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen. “I've got to go. Youngjae's just been calling me for the past five minutes straight, I guess that means I'm needed.” He stands and raises his coffee in a quick salute. “Thanks for this,” he says. “I think I'm gonna need something stronger by noon, though.”

“Drama queen,” Himchan scoffs. He dismisses Daehyun with a wave of his hand. “Go. Go on. Let me do the worrying. Go look after the leader of the free world.”

Daehyun snorts. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, and Himchan stands to see him out. His phone vibrates again and he sighs.

“I'll keep you posted,” Himchan assures him, shooing him out the door. “Let us work our magic.”

Daehyun sweeps out the door, already on the phone again and heading for his car. Himchan watches him go, then heads back into his office. If it's Jongup and Junhong's job to track down the kid, Himchan is the one to look into Daehyun's background. Daehyun's shock is genuine, that much is certain, but Himchan needs more. If he can dig up the details of his relationship with this Hyosung Jeon, maybe he can find out a little more about Daniel.

Mostly, though, he wants to keep busy. If he keeps his focus on the case at hand, on Daehyun and his shiny new son, then maybe he'll be able to push away the memories it's dredging up. After all, it's unprofessional to let yourself get emotionally compromised. Right?

 

 

 

 

 

  


Yongguk kisses the way he does everything else – seriously, deliberately, and like he's aiming to win. Himchan lets him crowd him back against the wall, hands firm on Himchan's hips as he holds him there, licking insistently at the inside of Himchan's mouth. Here, in Himchan's room, there's no need for propriety, for a carefully calculated distance between the two of them, and they take advantage. Himchan curls a hand into what little hair Yongguk has and pulls just a little, just enough to hear Yongguk groan into his mouth.

Sometimes, Himchan thinks there's something inevitable about this, the way the two of them come together behind closed doors. The palm of his hand fits so well around the curve of Yongguk's skull, and Yongguk's waist seems made for the space between Himchan's knees. Even when they're in public, he can't help but gravitate towards Yongguk, his fingers finding his wrist or the small of his back. It's always worth it, for the way that Yongguk turns to him and smiles, just for a second.

It takes a few seconds of pushing at Yongguk's chest before he lets up enough for Himchan to manoeuvre them over to the bed. The last thing they need is unexplainable bruises when Yongguk spends so much of his time on camera, so they have to be careful. A President doesn't have whirlwind romances, he has precisely planned tea dates and family dinners. And he certainly doesn't have them with someone on his staff. It would just reflect poorly upon his character, and hurt all of the hard work they've put into his campaign over the past months. So they keep it to themselves.

He ends up in Yongguk's lap, meticulously pulling at his tie. Yongguk mouths at his throat, and even the bite of his teeth is careful, calculated to make Himchan shiver, but not leave a mark. He's had enough practice by now that he can toe that line with ease. “I know you like this one,” Himchan says, curling his fingers around the blue silk before he tosses it aside, “but you have to switch it up sometimes. It's not good to be too predictable. Reliable, not predictable.”

Pulling away, Yongguk brings a hand up to cup the line of Himchan's jaw, eyebrows raised in amusement. “No more shop talk,” he says.

Himchan twists so he can press his lips against Yongguk's palm. “What?” he asks as Yongguk's hand slides around to the back of his neck, thumb brushing against his nape. “You expect me to just turn it off?”

“Yes,” Yongguk says firmly. “The tie is off.” He quickly gets rid of Himchan's too, and then starts unbuttoning Himchan's shirt. “It means I'm not presidential candidate Yongguk Bang right now.” He stops just long enough to kiss Himchan again, slow and sweet. “So I don't want to hear your critique of my tie choices.”

“These things are important,” Himchan protests, but Yongguk just rolls his eyes, tipping backwards and taking Himchan with him. Himchan ends up sprawled across Yongguk's lean chest, his face pushed into his throat as Yongguk pulls insistently at the hem of Himchan's shirt. “Alright, alright,” Himchan laughs, and he helps Yongguk with the task of pulling it off. “I get it. I'm done!”

He settles himself back on Yongguk's hips, just looking down at him. He knows it's not much of a view, but every single time, Yongguk looks up at him with something like reverence in his eyes. It never fails to make Himchan squirm. “You shouldn't complain,” he tells Yongguk. He needs to shift the focus away, it's too much. “I'm the reason you've gotten as far as you have.”

“I know,” Yongguk replies, without hesitation. Himchan knocks his knuckles against his shoulder. “Ow. Isn't that what you wanted to hear?”

Yongguk catches his hand and Himchan clicks his tongue, letting him. “I didn't expect you to give in so quickly,” he says. “What kind of President are you going to be?”

“A good one,” Yongguk says and he grins up at Himchan, that broad smile with too much gum, the one he saves for off camera, the one that Himchan loves. “A really good one. I've got a lot of good people helping me.”

Himchan bends down again, pressing his lips to the line of Yongguk's jaw as he pulls at the buttons of his shirt. “The best,” he murmurs, and when Yongguk steers his mouth back over to meet his, Himchan lets him. This is the only time they have together, late at night, and he's going to take full advantage of it.

 

 

 

 

 

  


In his hand, Himchan has the finished file on Daniel Jeon. His boys have been thorough, he trusts them to be, and according to this, Daehyun is most certainly the father. Apparently, after Daehyun and Hyosung Jeon had parted ways, she had decided to raise the baby on her own. She'd done a pretty bang-up job of it too. She'd successfully balanced her own career while bringing up Daniel until her marriage when he was seven. He's never gotten into trouble, gets good grades, has friends – in short, he sounds a lot like what Himchan assumes Daehyun had been like, when he was a kid.

It'd taken a bit of persuasion, but he'd managed to get Hyosung on the phone late yesterday. It turns out, she'd never told Daniel who his father was. He'd understood that his father wasn't around, but it wasn't until he turned seventeen that she pointed out Daehyun on the evening news and explained things.

Himchan's inclined to believe her. There are people who would be willing to pull out such an elaborate stunt to put fissures in the President's cabinet, but Himchan's gut says this is honesty. It makes sense, too. The note Daniel sent to Daehyun – it isn't calm or collected, the message of someone who knows they have the upper hand. It reads like a teenager who's just had his life turned upside down, and was looking for some answers. Messy and emotional.

So now, Himchan is back in the White House. Daehyun had made it very clear that he didn't want to meet the kid, but Himchan is certain now that it would be the simplest way to resolve this whole matter. His next step: figure out exactly what Daehyun isn't telling him, and why he’s so insistent on avoiding the situation altogether.

It's been over a year, and Himchan still remembers where Daehyun's office is. He's making his way through the halls, greeting people he hasn't seen in months (Hana looks positively glowing, he makes a note to call her for coffee and catch up), when he bumps into Youngjae. “Ah, just the man I was looking for,” he says.

Youngjae blinks at him for a second, confused, then raises an eyebrow. “No, you weren't,” he says, but he falls into step with him anyway. “How's the thing with Daehyun going?”

He's fishing for details, but even now, Himchan still trusts Youngjae. It takes a lot more than a couple of months distance for a person to change, and while Youngjae has a sharp tongue on him, he's always known when to hold it. “It's definitely his,” he says, and Youngjae whistles. “I've got it under control, though. Barely even worth calling me in, really.”

“Oh, it's beneath you, then?” Youngjae asks. They've reached the door of Daehyun's office.

Himchan very carefully and firmly grinds the heel of his expensive shoe down on Youngjae's toe. “It's all beneath me, my dear Mr. Yoo,” he says breezily.

“You're intolerable,” Youngjae tells him with a smile. “Haven't missed you at all.” As Himchan turns to knock on Daehyun's door, Youngjae deliberately knocks his hip into the doorframe. Himchan yelps and narrows his eyes at Youngjae, but he's already slipped off down the hall. Prick, Himchan thinks fondly.

Daehyun looks surprised to see him when he opens the door. “Daehyun Jung,” Himchan says magnanimously. “Let's get lunch.”

“I can't leave, I have...work.” Daehyun frowns. “Is this about the case? Should I be worried?”

Well, fine. If he has to stay, Himchan can work with that. He pushes past Daehyun into his office, making himself comfortable in one of his chairs. “Relax,” Himchan says. “Everything is under control.”

Daehyun closes the door behind Himchan and is slow to turn around and make his way back to his desk. “So why are you here?” he asks. He narrows his eyes mistrustfully, choosing to lean against his desk instead of taking a seat. “I mean, not that it's not nice to see you. Of course.”

Himchan pulls a face. “Of course,” he echoes. He straightens in his chair, pushing out his chin. Time to talk business. “He's yours, Daehyun. I'm sure of it.” The faint smile on Daehyun's face melts away, replaced by a stony blankness that Himchan is familiar with. “He just wants to meet with you. There's no trick, no catch.”

“No.” Daehyun's already shaking his head, lips tight. “I don't – ”

Himchan cocks his head. “One lunch with this kid, and you have nothing to worry about.” He narrows his eyes. “What exactly is the big deal here?”

“Find another way,” Daehyun says stubbornly. He grips the desktop so hard his knuckles turn white, and he won't look at Himchan.

“No,” Himchan says sharply, and that's when Daehyun's eyes snap up, startled. “Don't be stupid. Anything else will involve money and a cover up. This has been so straightforward it's barely even worth my _time_.” He points a finger at Daehyun. “It's one lunch and you _will_ go, you petulant child.”

“It's not that simple,” Daehyun insists, but Himchan knows he's got him now. There's a spark in his eyes that Himchan likes a whole lot better than that shuttered blankness. “I'm not – I can't be a _dad_ ,” he says, and he sounds helpless and frustrated and ah. Now it makes sense. “I've never even met this boy and he's practically an adult.” He shrugs and shakes his head at the same time. “What does he want that I can even give?”

Himchan softens. He can't help it. “Plenty,” he says. “He's your son, you know.” Daehyun flinches. “It means he's got a _brain_. He's old enough not to just expect you to step into some role you didn't even know you'd left.”

“What if – ” Daehyun rubs a hand across the back of his head. “He's a teenager, they're all emotions and stuff, aren't they?” He throws his hands into the air. “What if he blames me? For not being around I mean. I don't – I didn't even know he _existed_. It's been so long since I spoke to Hyosung. When you miss that much time in somebody's life...sometimes it's better just to step back and call it a day.”

That anxiety in Daehyun's voice means that this isn't a simple matter of appealing to his practical side anymore. “I'm sure he won't blame you,” Himchan tries, but Daehyun isn't listening.

“I won't do it, Himchan,” he says sharply. He walks back to the door, anger in every line of his shoulders. “You're the expert. You're the _fixer_. Find another way.”

Himchan sits for another second, his jaw working. He considers waiting Daehyun out, until he's not all snappish and ready to listen, but clearly, Daehyun has other ideas. He opens the door for Himchan, pointedly, and Himchan knows he's dismissed.

“We're not done talking about this,” Himchan says, and he pushes himself to his feet. Daehyun meets his gaze head on, eyes hard, but he doesn't acknowledge what Himchan has said. Sometimes, Himchan thinks, their history can work against them. He knows Daehyun, but that means Daehyun knows him. He knows exactly how to dig in his heels and shut Himchan out, and that's frustrating.

It's not impossible to work with, though. Himchan is far too good for that.

He's met at the doorway by a very familiar figure. “Himchan Kim,” Yongguk says. His tie is blue, Himchan notes vaguely, and it bears a very distinct resemblance to one he'd given Yongguk three Christmases ago. He feels faint. “It's been a while.”

“Mr. President.” Himchan sidesteps him, trying to slip past him into the hallway. “I'm sorry, I was just on my way out – ”

“Then I'll walk with you,” Yongguk says. Himchan's heart is doing its best impression of a tango and he throws one last look Daehyun's way. Daehyun, of course, is unsympathetic, and closes the door in his face. Great.

It's poor manners to try to outrun the President, so Himchan is forced to a leisurely pace, his nerves buzzing under his skin. “I hear you're doing well for yourself,” Yongguk says. He's got his hands tucked in his pockets, and he's not quite looking at Himchan. He looks calm, relaxed, and part of Himchan is pleased. Yongguk has gotten so good at this. It's only years of familiarity that let Himchan know that Yongguk is just as tense as he is. He can read it in the tightness of Yongguk's smile and the stiffness of his shoulders. “I always knew you'd do well in the private sector.”

“Were you trying to get rid of me, then?” Himchan asks. He's trying to keep his tone playful, but it comes out sharper than he'd meant.

Yongguk looks at him then, his gaze heavy. “No,” he says. “You know I like having you on my team.” He doesn't smile.

For once, Himchan doesn't much know what to say. He licks his lips and stares straight ahead, focusing on his footsteps, carefully matching Yongguk's pace. There's an odd sense of deja vu to this. He's walked these halls dozens of times with Yongguk, and it gives him this strange sense of dissonance to be here once again, at once the same and not the same at all. He needs to be casual, aloof. Things have changed. “You need to quit wearing that tie,” he says instead, and immediately, he colours. “Predictable isn't charming.”

Yongguk falters for a second, his eyes curious as he turns to look at Himchan again. “Maybe,” he says, and when he smiles, it's faint and almost genuine, “but it's my favourite.” When Himchan meets his gaze, his smile widens. “My lucky tie.”

His words set off jittery fireworks under Himchan's skin. Almost two years, and Yongguk can still pull that off. He can't _do_ this. Not right now. “I really am sorry, Mr. President,” he says, and his throat clenches when Yongguk's shoulders drop just a fraction. “I have an urgent lunch date.”

He doesn't bother with the niceties, because he knows they won't fool Yongguk. He just nods his goodbye and practically bolts away.

Himchan doesn't slow down until he's made it all the way out, past security, to where his car waits. He feels so on edge, shaky and off balance. This is unprofessional, Kim. Get it together. He throws himself into the back of his car, a hand pressed to his forehead until his breathing evens. Yongguk Bang. He shakes his head. This is too much.

 

 

 

 

 

  


“How's your mother?” Yongguk asks. His voice is rough, like he's just woken up, and Himchan knows it's barely six am over there. The responsible part of him is telling him to order Yongguk back to bed, but the words die in his throat. It's the first time in nearly three weeks they've managed to make their schedules line up. Washington DC to Seoul, it's not a small time difference.

“She's doing well,” Himchan says. He settles back on his bed, listening to the bustle of his sister's family down the hall. “The doctor says she can go home within a few days if she continues to improve like this.”

“That's amazing,” Yongguk says, and Himchan smiles. Yongguk probably just rolled out of bed, but he still has the time to be genuinely happy for a woman he's never met before. “That's great news.”

“It is,” Himchan agrees, and he falls silent. He's been in Seoul for nearly two months, and it's nice, getting to see his family again, even if it's under less than ideal circumstances. But the thing is, it's kind of driving him nuts. Hospitals make him antsy on a good day, and it's been years since he lived in Seoul.

It's hard to adjust when he's pretty sure he's left the biggest part of himself back in Washington.

“How's Seoul?” Yongguk asks. “C'mon, Himchan.” Himchan can almost hear the lazy curve in Yongguk's mouth. He always liked Yongguk in the morning, how easy and pliant he was before he remembered his responsibilities. “You're off adventuring on the other side of the world. You've gotta give me something.”

“Got to,” Himchan corrects automatically. He smiles. “I miss you,” he admits.

Yongguk hums. “Miss you too,” he says. Himchan stares at the ceiling and tries not to let the coldness seep in. “Do you know when you're coming home?”

_Home_. “Soon, I hope,” he says, although he doesn't have much faith in that. Once his mother gets out of the hospital, she'll need care. His sister, a nurse, can provide that, but Himchan is the only son. He needs to be here for his family in their time of need. Even if it means putting his entire life on hold. He needs to be here.

“Better bring me a souvenir,” Yongguk tells him, and Himchan snorts.

“Yes, of course,” he says. “I promise.”

They don't speak again for almost three months. Yongguk's attention is tied up in a situation in Libya, and Himchan is kept busy with his mother and helping out at his family's company. They exchange emails, of course, and texts now and again, but the silence between each one stretches longer and longer each time.

It's not like Himchan does it on purpose. His days just stretch so long that by the time he gets home, he just rolls into bed and passes out. And the distance...it's difficult, at best. What he and Yongguk have, it's easy to maintain when they spend every waking minute together, less so from halfway across the world. His uncertainties are magnified with each long silence between them.

He's never much considered himself the family type, but he has to admit, being around his sister and her family does make him a little bit jealous. It's not the diapers or the patter of little feet, but the easy way she and her husband have together. It's nothing for them to kiss, to touch, in front of people. It's been a long time since Himchan had something like that. He's not certain he ever will.

He spends eight months in Korea, helping his mother get back on her feet. He spends eight months devoted to his family and their company, eight months of emails that slow to a trickle, and and eight months thinking far too much. By the time he heads back to the States, Himchan thinks he's gotten it figured out. What he and Yongguk had, it was never meant to last. Secrecy has its uses, Himchan has based his whole career on secrets and their proper execution, but this isn't how relationships are supposed to work. It's easier if he just lets this go now, before things get any more complicated.

There's a voicemail on his phone when he touches down in DC. It's Yongguk. Himchan deletes it without listening to it. Maybe, it's for the best. A new beginning, and all that.

It mostly feels like an end.

 

 

 

 

 

  


Daniel Jeon is staying at a sad little rundown motel. It only takes Junhong a few minutes of batting those big doe eyes at the middle-aged woman behind the counter to figure out what room he's in. Better than sleeping in a car, Himchan supposes, but not by a whole lot. He's a little bit impressed, actually. He's fairly certain that it's illegal to rent a room to a kid his age, but he must've talked his way here. Definitely Daehyun's kid.

Flanked by Jongup and Junhong and bearing takeout, Himchan knocks on the door. Daniel's eyes are wide when he answers the door, and Himchan doesn't give him a chance to say no, he just barrels past him. “Hello, Daniel,” Himchan says, sweeping into the room. It's cleaner than he'd thought. He nods. “My name is Himchan Kim, and these are my associates. I work for Daehyun Jung.”

Daniel's face closes down just the same was Daehyun's had yesterday. Himchan blinks at him for a second. It's uncanny. “What do you want?”

Himchan holds up his hands. “Relax,” he says. He gestures at the takeout bags in Jongup's hands, taking a seat on one of the flimsy chairs the motel provided. He assumes it's more hygienic than the bed. “I brought you the best burger in town.”

“What do you _want_?” the kid is getting snappish now, defensive.

Jongup starts laying out the food on the table, and Himchan reaches for a fry. “The real question, Mr. Jeon, is what do _you_ want.” He leans back to regard Daniel, gaze steady. “I'm not here to threaten you, if that's what you're assuming. I just want to know why exactly you are here.”

Stubbornly, Daniel flops down on the bed, lips pressed together, saying nothing. Two can play at that game, though. Himchan waits him out, picking at Junhong's fries and ignoring his scowl. “Are you sure you don't want one?” Jongup asks. He smiles at Daniel, disarmingly sweet, and holds out a burger. It's difficult, Himchan knows, not to trust someone like Jongup. He's got such a sweet face.

Reluctantly, like he's accepting a deal from the devil, Daniel reaches out and takes the burger. Himchan smiles and pats Jongup's hip. Here again, Daniel takes after his father. Never could resist good food. “If we wanted to get rid of you,” Himchan says casually, “we would have already. Sent you packing back to your mother.” Himchan tips his head. “I'm very efficient, you know.”

Junhong folds himself into the other chair, making quick work of his own burger. Daniel eyes him, brows furrowed. Himchan doesn't blame him, really. He might be in his late twenties but Junhong still has the metabolism of a teenager. Sometimes Himchan is halfway convinced that he's still growing, which is a bit horrifying. He's already a leggy giraffe of a human being. He really has no need to get any taller.

“So you work for my father?” Daniel asks. It's a challenge, clearly, written in the defensive hunch of his shoulders and the way he tears a bite right out of the burger.

Himchan answers it. “Yes,” he says. It's not what Daniel is expecting. He pauses mid-chew and stares at Himchan. It takes him a second to recover, and Himchan graciously gives it to him. “Daehyun is a good friend of mine. And that's why I want to see this settled in the most amicable way possible.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So I need to know: what do you want?”

“I – ” the kid blinks like he'd never anticipated this kind of reaction. “I just found out my dad is the Chief of Staff of the President of the United States,” he says helplessly. He waves his burger in the air. “That's...”

Himchan waits a second for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn't. “I know,” he says, and his kindness isn't entirely feigned. This kid is clearly way out of his depth here. He tries to be gentle. “But I need to be assured that that's all you want.”

Daniel flushes. “I don't want _money_ ,” he says. “Or like.” He drops his burger back into his lap and starts picking the seeds off the bun. “I wasn't gonna go to the press or anything. I don't even know who I'd talk to.” He glances up and shrugs his hunched shoulders. “I just thought he'd say no. I didn't want him to say no.”

If Daniel is playing them, he is a very, very good actor. “He's still saying no,” Himchan admits, and Daniel curls in on himself even further. “But give me time. I will get you that meeting.” Daniel raises an eyebrow and Himchan frowns at him. Daehyun may be stubborn, but that doesn't mean that Himchan can't crack him. This doubt is offensive. “I will.”

“Okay,” Daniel says doubtfully. Junhong snorts. Himchan fixes him with hard eyes. He needs new help.

Himchan throws one last fry in his mouth (he missed lunch, alright) and then stands. “We'll be in touch,” he tells Daniel with a companionable pat on the shoulder. Daniel flicks a seed onto the floor and nods silently.

“That went well,” Junhong says cheerfully as they head out of the motel.

Himchan throws him a sidelong look. “You're just saying that because you got a burger out of it,” he says darkly. Junhong grins.

Well, now Himchan knows what he needs to do. He just needs to figure out how to see Daehyun without, well, seeing anyone else. Himchan swallows it down and lifts his chin. Focus on the case, Kim. That's the important part.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Himchan doesn't wait to put his plan in motion. “Ah,” Youngjae says when he sees them approach. “Daehyun's not going to be happy to see you.” His tone is faintly warning but he looks more amused than anything. His eyes widen when he catches a glimpse behind Himchan. “Is that – ?”

“Yes,” Himchan says. “And I don't care.” He gives Youngjae a few seconds to decide whether or not he wants to interfere or tag along and watch the show, but eventually he looks at his watch and grimaces, waving them through.

They sweep on down the halls until they make it to Daehyun's office. Himchan doesn't even bother to knock, just barges right on in. Daehyun jerks to his feet. “I thought I told security not to let you in without my express permission,” he scowls.

“I still have plenty of friends in the White House,” Himchan says serenely. “Jieun was more than willing to vouch for me.” Lovely girl, Jieun, more than willing to undermine Daehyun once Himchan had explained his case. Very handy.

“I can have you thrown out,” Daehyun glowers.

Himchan shrugs. “Or, you can stop being such a whiny little man-child and go on a lunch with this poor kid.”

“I said no,” Daehyun says. “I'm not. I'm not ready for something like that.”

Same old, same old. Himchan shakes his head. He leans out the doorframe and tugs Daniel into the office. The way that Daehyun freezes like a deer in headlights is so gratifying. “Oh look,” Himchan says. “How convenient. I guess you have to go get lunch now, hmm?”

Daehyun scrambles for words, his mouth working. He can't take his eyes off Daniel. “I. You can't just bring people into the White House, Himchan Kim!”

Himchan carefully situates himself in front of the door, so that no one can bolt. Daniel looks just as scared as his father, shifting from foot to foot. He looks out of place here, even though he'd put on his best shirt when Himchan had asked. It's rumpled, and his hair looks unnaturally pressed down, and he's so earnest and hopeful. Perfect. Himchan smiles. “Jieun is very understanding,” he says. He gestures at Daniel. “Introduce yourself. Where are your manners?”

Daehyun presses his lips together, but he holds out a hand to Daniel. “Chief of Staff Daehyun Jung,” he says cautiously. “And your father, according to Himchan.” Himchan clears his throat pointedly and Daehyun sighs. “Nice to meet you,” he tries, and he sounds genuine enough that Himchan thinks he'll get a pass.

“Daniel Jeon,” Daniel replies. “Um. I'm just some kid.” He flashes a brief, hesitant smile and Himchan can see it, the precise moment when Daehyun breaks.

He rubs a hand across his eyes. “You like burgers?” he asks. Daniel straightens, and the smile he flashes at Daehyun looks just like one Himchan's seen dozens of times on his father's face. Himchan does his best not to get too smug, but it's tough. After all, he solved this all in three days with a bag of takeout. God, he's good.

Daehyun grabs his jacket and tells his secretary he'll be out for the rest of the day. There's still a certain level of distance between him and Daniel, but Himchan feels confident. “Oh, Himchan?” Daehyun throws over his shoulder. His smile gets sharp. “You owe me one.”

Well, that's ominous. Taken aback, Himchan glares at Daehyun's retreating figure. “I don't owe him anything,” he tells Daehyun’s secretary. She looks amused. “If anything, he owes _me_. I don't work for free!”

“Yes, Mr. Kim,” Jimin says indulgently, and she shoos him out the door.

Himchan would be offended, but Jongup is calling him. He can't decide if he hopes it's about a more rewarding case or dinner plans. “No more takeout,” Himchan announces, bringing the phone up to his face.

Jongup laughs, telling him about a senator and his indiscretions, in urgent need of Himchan Kim's services, but Himchan isn't listening anymore. Flanked by two Secret Service men, Yongguk is coming down the corridor. He nods as he passes. “Mr. Kim.”

After all this time, Himchan really should not be so disappointed by formalities. “Mr. President,” he replies. He's wearing that blue tie again. Himchan resists the urge to scold him for it and instead squares his shoulders and heads in the opposite direction.

It takes him on a far longer route, but by the time he passes security, he's composed himself enough to carry on his conversation with Jongup. “Do you need to take a break?” Jongup asks. “We don't have to take on the senator.”

“No,” Himchan says firmly. “No case is too much for Himchan Kim.”

“Yeah,” Jongup laughs. “We're gladiators, right?”

“Gladiators,” Himchan agrees, waving a quick goodbye to Jieun as he passes her on the stairs. He owes her dinner, he remembers. Jongup clears his throat and Himchan shakes his head, even if he can't see it. “I'm _fine_ , Jongup,” he says.

“Uh huh,” Jongup says. “Put on your white hat, then, the senator wants to meet ASAP.”

Himchan frowns down at his jacket as he hails a cab. Should he change? He should change.

On his way back to the office, he gets a text message from an unknown number. It's innocuous, but when he sees that it's signed with the initials YG, he presses delete before he can take too long to think about it. When it's gone, he presses his forehead to the glass window and tightens his grip around his phone, his chest tight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The senator's case is regretfully straightforward. Himchan isn't sure he'd label him a good man, but he's done good things, so he only feels a twinge of regret when they have to hunt down his mistress and gently persuade her to be silent.

Simple cases make Junhong grumpy, and they give Himchan too much time to think. He's supposed to be drafting a statement for the press, but his head keeps coming back around to that stupid fucking tie.

There is absolutely no reason for Yongguk to have held onto it for so long. A man as powerful as he is is more than capable of buying a new tie, and there's no particular benefit to being seen wearing the same one, again and again. It is a nice tie, obviously, Himchan is the one who picked it out, but it's not _that_ nice.

Which means that the reason that Yongguk still holds onto it isn't practicality, but sentimentality. Himchan has been doing pretty well, he thinks, with carefully sealing all of that away until now, but he's not sure he can anymore. Almost two years without seeing each other, well over a year since they've spoken, and Himchan still feels that same inexorable pull when he sees Yongguk, impossible to ignore. He'd thought it would be easier this way, less complicated for both of them. If they couldn’t define what they had, maybe it was easiest to to define it as nothing at all.

But is it nothing when, two years later, Yongguk still wears that tie? And Himchan knows that Daehyun is an important part of Yongguk's cabinet, but it's a lot of coincidence for Yongguk to always be passing by when Himchan just happens to drop in.

Yongguk always did have faith in people, even when they didn't have any themselves.

Himchan taps his fingers against his desk and thinks about Daehyun and his son. Sometimes the easiest solution is the one you are most afraid of trying.

He bends his head over his iPad. Business first. Everything else can wait. It's waited long enough already, hasn't it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Himchan is not, in general, a particularly nervous person, but right now, he's a little bit terrified. The suit he's wearing is a favourite, but that doesn't stop him from fiddling with his cufflinks, smoothing a hand down his front. He knows better than most that walking into the office of the President of the United States without an appointment is simply not done.

Luckily, Himchan has friends. Pushy friends. “You're welcome,” Youngjae says, unprompted, as he ushers Himchan forward. “Mr. Bang's next appointment is here,” he tells Yongguk's secretary, who nods a quick acknowledgement.

“I didn't thank you,” Himchan points out. He reaches up to straighten his tie and Youngjae bats his hands down, ignoring the way that Himchan scowls at him.

“Sit down,” Youngjae tells him. “Relax. He thinks that you're Daehyun with new developments on the situation in Syria.” He checks his watch. “Ugh. As much as I'd like to stay behind and watch this show go down, I have a meeting.” He points a finger at Himchan. “He'll be out in five. Tell me how it goes, alright?”

With an impatient flap of his hand, Himchan waves him off. He really doesn't need an audience right now.

The five minute wait is excruciating. Himchan avoids the secretary's eye and ignores his phone in his pocket, vibrating periodically. Jongup and Junhong can do without him for one hour, he has faith in them. He looks down as he plays with his cufflinks, and his stomach lurches. He'd worn them without thinking, they've always been a favourite pair of his, and he's had them long enough that he's almost forgotten how he'd gotten them. They'd been Yongguk's, once upon a time, until Himchan had eyed them one too many times and Yongguk had finally given them to him. This is a disaster. He contemplates taking them off, but the thought of wearing a suit without cufflinks makes him feel a little ill. There’s no time to grab a replacement, either. He’s stuck. Maybe, he thinks, maybe if he’s lucky, Yongguk won’t notice. He exhales noisily and crosses his fingers.

He's about to make a run for it, convinced this is all a horrible mistake, when Yongguk emerges. He and his previous appointment, a diplomat that Himchan vaguely recognizes, are laughing and shaking hands, but Yongguk's laughter dies when he sees Himchan. Yongguk bids the man goodbye and Himchan returns to toying with his cufflinks. Maybe he can still leave, he thinks. He's only the President, right? What's a little wasted time?

“Mr. Kim,” Yongguk says. His tone isn't terribly friendly, his smile polite. Himchan's stomach drops as he gets up again. “Please, come in.”

It's been a long while since Himchan was in here. Himchan follows Yongguk into his office, and when Yongguk gestures for him to sit, he does. “This is a surprise,” Yongguk says mildly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

His tie is different, grey with a subtle stripe. Himchan does his best not to be disappointed. “It's been a long while,” he says. “I thought it was more than time to catch up.”

“Oh?” Yongguk says, raising his eyebrows. “You did, did you?”

The bite to his words makes Himchan bristle. “I'm trying to apologize, you know,” he snaps.

Yongguk leans back, his chin lifted in challenge. “Is that what this is?” he asks, tone even. “It only took you a year.”

“I _know_ ,” Himchan says. “And I'm sorry.” His jaw works and he has to look away from Yongguk's gaze, it's too much. “I just. It was so hard, in Korea, for us to even connect just to say hello.” The hard line of Yongguk's mouth softens. “I know better than anyone how hard it is to maintain a relationship in politics. It just seemed like, well. Things were headed that way anyway, and it would just simplify things for you.” Himchan shrugs and smiles wryly. “You have to run a country, right?”

Yongguk is silent for a long second, long enough that Himchan starts playing with his cufflinks again. When Yongguk's eyes drop to follow the gesture, he stills his hands, settling them against his knees. “And I didn't get a say in this?” Yongguk asks.

“Well,” Himchan says, “sometimes someone has to make the uncomfortable decision.”

Yongguk clicks his tongue, but when he shakes his head, it's almost like how things used to be, irritated and fond. “Himchan,” he says.

“What?”

Yongguk gestures at his hands in his lap. “I recognize those cufflinks.”

Startled, Himchan curls his hands over them protectively. “And?”

“Do you really think I need to get rid of my tie?” There's something odd in Yongguk's eyes, a wariness that Himchan isn't used to seeing from him.

Himchan knows what he's asking, he's not oblivious. That doesn't mean he's not nervous as hell, though. “I mean,” he says, “what have I told you about being predictable?” The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile that's more nerves than anything. There's a part of him that's annoyed with Yongguk, with his ability to worm through his defenses without even doing much.

“Himchan,” Yongguk says again, that same irritated and fond tone.

Himchan rubs his hands over his face and considers, briefly, how the Secret Service are probably listening in on this conversation. He considers his options and steels himself. What does he have to lose? It's not like they were talking before now. “Mr. President,” he says, and Yongguk tenses again, leaning back, “would you like to get dinner sometime?”

He's not expecting Yongguk to _laugh_. “I'm a very busy man,” he tells Himchan, and without thinking, Himchan reaches forward to slap his palm against Yongguk's knee. His stomach lurches when Yongguk wraps his fingers around his wrist. “No need to get violent,” he says.

“Yongguk,” Himchan hisses, flushing, and Yongguk uses his grip on Himchan's wrist to pull him forward into a quick kiss.

Himchan hadn't even realized just how much he'd missed this until right now. He leans into it, pressing gentle fingertips against Yongguk's jaw. It doesn't last long, and Yongguk pulls away after a second, his nose brushing up against Himchan's cheek, but he's smiling again. It's a real smile, a bright one, and Himchan thinks he might like it even better than the kiss. “I might be able to pencil you in,” Yongguk says.

His grip on Himchan's wrist lingers, thumb brushing across the cufflinks, and Himchan feels light-headed. “Wear the tie,” he says firmly. Yongguk snorts and rolls his eyes, but this time, it's all fondness.

It's not quite the same, a lot of things can change in two years, but it's a second chance. Yongguk's hand fits in his just the way it used to, just the way it always has, and Himchan is certain that this time, he's not going to be so quick to let it go. 


End file.
